


What Happens In Midgard

by beachkid (binz), binz, shiplizard



Category: Dresden Files - All Media Types, Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Community: dresden_kink, Double Penetration, Kinkmeme, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot, Size Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, Winter Bike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-26
Updated: 2011-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-16 04:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binz/pseuds/beachkid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/binz/pseuds/binz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiplizard/pseuds/shiplizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plot, what plot? In which John Marcone is convinced to mix business, pleasure, and Harry Dresden by his security contractor.  [Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/168262">Goodnight and Big Balls</a>, but should stand alone.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens In Midgard

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dresden Files kinkmeme (round two) for: _Vadderung/Harry/Marcone_
> 
>  _The world needs more Vadderung sexings!_

If you’d have asked me, I’d never have pegged the Queen of Air and Darkness for the pen-pal type. But the letter I had stuffed into the inside pocket of my jacket-- the eleventh in seven weeks-- seemed to beg otherwise. “H&M,” I said, waving casually to the receptionists, each watching me with half-tilted heads and bright eyes. “Keeping it real, girls?”

H tipped her head the other way and then back, and M scratched distractedly through the finish on her desk.

“I should be passing by Mardi Gras in a few days,” I continued on, blithely. We’re building a good relationship. I’m sure of it. “Want me to bring you back some beads? Token of our budding friendship?” I smiled widely. “I’ll get them the traditional way and everything.”

That was the trick; no obligation of debt, on my part or theirs. H settled down in her seat, shoulders fluttering under her suit jacket; M drew her hand back from destroying the office furniture and pressed a button, indicated the office.

“Let me know if you have any color requests,” I shot over my shoulder, and disappeared through the door.

Nothing in the literature had prepared me for the All Father being of the correspondence persuasion either, but just as many missives had been returned to my Queen as I’d delivered, and I couldn’t say I minded. The literature _had_ prepared me for his more handsy persuasion, although that he’d have any interest in my notable lack-of-curves and creamy white thighs had been more of a surprise.

“Greetings to the All Father, known as Wodin, called Donar Vadderung, from my most gracious Queen, she of the Unseelie Court, of all Winter beauty and darkness, called Mab. I bring you her tidings; she bids me to your service for the time of our appointment, and hopes I find you well.” I pulled the rolled-up scroll from my pocket as I recited the greeting, presenting it with a flourish-- not quite suppressing the cheeky edge of my smile. So I was looking forward to this; it’s not like it made me a bad person. I enjoy the perqs of my job when and where they come.

Ahem.

Vadderung leaned comfortably back in the large chair behind his large desk, one blue eye sparkling. “Punctual as always, Knight of Winter,” he said, voice deep and, well, large, like a summer storm rumbling on the horizon.

There was a theme around Vadderung: he was giant. Not literally; I’d met giants. But, he was massive. Immense. Enormous. Standing, I had to look up to meet his gaze. Way, way up. He had a good foot on me-- and when you’re almost seven feet tall, that’s saying a lot-- and something about him was just _bigger_. The breadth of his shoulders, his chest, all of his proportions. I needed both my hands to get a good grip around one of his biceps; I needed my whole arm to wrap around one of his thighs.

“That’s me,” I said cheerfully. “Mister-Right-on-time.” And I wasn’t stupid enough to insult a actual god-- okay, correction. I wasn’t stupid enough to _accidentally_ insult an actual god or piss off Mab by showing up late when I knew better and could avoid it. Plus, it was kind of a booty call; I was keeping it polite. It had taken a while for me to get there-- in general, not in particular-- but I _liked_ these visits with the Vadderung.

“Then I bid you approach, Knight Dresden; bring me your Queen’s greetings.” He pushed back in his king-sized chair to let me sneak in between him and the desk. I held out the scroll again-- and with one easy movement, he lifted me from the floor onto his lap, saying hello with a thorough, bristly kiss.

I gave my own back, mmm-ing when he sucked at my top lip, tugged at his with my teeth, used a hand around his neck to leverage myself up for a better angle of attack. I could feel the raw chafing around my mouth from his beard when I finally broke away, panting, and happily traced that line of thought to how that burn would feel on my belly, my thighs, my back, my ass.

“And what does your Queen send to me today, little Knight?” Vadderung asked, swinging me around to sit with my back to his chest, a promise of pressure under my ass, and I wiggled against it, earning myself a chuckle and swat on the thigh.

“I’m afraid I can’t say, my lord Vadderung. I was instructed only to deliver the message, not on its contents.”

“Then you must exercise your patience,” he said, popping the wax seal and unrolling the scroll above my head. I don’t think I was imagining the fondness in his voice, and I definitely wasn’t imagining the hand--at least half again the size of mine-- that came down to rub gentle circles on my thighs and stomach while he read.

I let myself relax, slumping against his big chest-- Stars, you could fit at least four of me side-by-side in front of him, and still not see us from behind-- letting my eyes drift shut, enjoying the attention and casual touch. I get touched a lot more than I used to, these days (well, I get more physical contact in general these days, ifyouknowwhatImean) but this absent-minded, freely-given affection was different than the outright seductions. It was nice, in a no-strings-attached sort of way. It was about touching me because-- I think-- he liked me, and not just because he liked to get in my pants.

“Have I put you to sleep, Harry?” Vadderung’s deep voice rumbled just outside my ear, making me tense up and shiver in a good way, a jolt of all-powerful thunder right to the places that counted. His lips trailed to the spot behind my ear and I rolled my neck, trying to give him more access. “How short a tale you would give me to send back to your Queen.” That was me: Dear Penthouse star of the all-powerful, divine-forces subscriber list.

I twisted around to kiss him, and one of his big hands slid between my thighs, teasing up my inseam. He reached across me and put the paper on his desk, and I had just a moment’s warning before his other hand came down between my legs too, spreading them wide. I let out a very manly squeak, balance tipping, and slid halfway down his lap before he swung me over to splay across his lap horizontally. I burst out laughing and wiggled my ass at him, up and on display where I bent over his legs.

“You are in a pleasing mood today, little one,” he told me, amused. He rubbed two fingers hard between my ass and my balls, lots of pressure and little purchase, the denim of my jeans in the way, and my hips rolled up without thought, trying to get closer, my back curving out.

“Nn. Is that an observation or a request?” I managed, once the stars faded from behind my eyes.

“It can’t be both?” I could hear his grin as he shifted his fingers, giving my balls a friendly little jiggle-- and caught me off-guard with a sharp smack. He did it again and my eyes crossed.

“Woah, woah, no horseplay on the desk!” I scolded him, wide eyes, face innocent. “I’ll get in _trouble_ if Mab finds out I ruined her letter.”

He chuckled. “Then I should take you somewhere a little more sturdy.” He scooped me off his lap and hefted me lightly into his arms, lifting me easily.

I laughed and restrained the urge to kick my feet as he carried me through the halls, the gleaming corporate theme giving way to something a little more rough and wooden, deep in the back of the building where the mortal realm and the Nevernever bled together. He pushed his bedroom door open and swung me to the ground, righting me and spinning me to face the bed: big, solid, strong. About eight miles wide and long enough that not even the Vadderung’s feet were in danger of hanging off the end. My grin grew.

There was another body in the bed-- no shocker, I’m not delusional enough to think that I’m the only mortal pie the Vadderung has his fingers in (and does he ever have talented fingers). I don’t get hurt about it, and once or twice I’ve shared a threesome or moresome with him and his other, ahem, guests.

This one looked promising-- a man, a little padded but not so much that you couldn’t make out the defined, well-used muscles. He had that slack-limbed fucked-out look that the Vadderung hands out like a party favor-- legs splayed and tangled in the blanket, muscular arm thrown over his face. I let my eyes roadtrip from the shadowed hollow of his clavicle down over firm pectorals, slightly rounded stomach, meaty thighs, sturdy calves, big, well-maintained feet. His cock was nestled in a thatch of gunmetal gray hair, a few shades darker than the mostly-salt and slightly-pepper hair on his head, peeping out from under his arm.

“Enjoying the decoration?” A hand the size of a catcher’s mitt caressed my entire ass.

I was going to sprain something if I couldn’t stop grinning. “Wondering if the decoration wanted to join in, or if we should be vewy vewy quiet.”

“He works too hard. But perhaps a sweet dream to send him back to sleep-- you should go ask him,” Vadderung said with a chuckle, as deep and thrilling as distant thunder.

I nodded seriously, toed off my boots, and strolled over to the bed, crawling up to lay a hand on the man’s arm. “Hey,” I murmured, stroking down to his side. “I’m the Vadderung’s two o'clock. Should we leave you to your beauty sleep or do you want to join in?”

“Mm.” A tremor of consciousness slid down the length of his body, back arching, hips rolling, legs stretching to their full length, toes curling as the last few inches of him woke up. “Since you ask so nicely.” He lifted his arm off of his face and caught the back of my neck in one fluid movement, drawing me in for a slow, loose-mouthed kiss. He was a good kisser, mouth plaint and warm, the promise of strength beneath, just waiting for him to wake up and use it. I kissed back, matching my speed to his, using my lips to their advantage, gentle, soft.

Then we rolled over into better light, and mostly disentangled, and really saw each other for the first time.

“...motherfuck,” said John Marcone, as horrified as I’ve ever seen him.

We shoved apart in a flurry of motion-- his hand flying off my neck liked he’d been burned, me trying to dislodge the arm that had wedged under him, which, with his helpful shove, dropped me off the bed onto my ass. He surged off the bed on the other side, snarling something about his pants.

“You could have warned me,” I snapped, still on the ground, looking up at Vadderung--who was glaring at us. Oops. My mind raced. Usually I know why I’ve ticked people off, but I was drawing a blank. I thought, if anything, he’d have thought it was funny-- that he’d been playing a trick on two unaware mortals, maybe to warn me off for getting so sure, so comfortable in his affections, maybe just for godly shits and giggles.

“I thought you both knew better than to bring petty disputes into my bedchambers,” he rumbled. Distant, _pissed off_ thunder.

“But it’s--”

“It’s the damned wizard,” John snapped, but a warning look from Vadderung froze him, sheepish, one leg in and one leg out of his dress slacks.

“The squabbles of your fiefdom have no place here,” he glowered.

Oh. He hadn’t thought it would be funny for John and I to swat at each other like angry cats. He’d thought we were going to roll with it. And we’d just killed his mood.

“I hadn’t realized that the terms of our... agreement meant performing with any partner you chose, despite my objections.” Marcone’s voice was tight and hard. “Should I undress?”

“Don’t be an ass, Marcone,” Vadderung grumbled. “I didn’t think you’d object so strongly to this one, or I wouldn’t have sent him. ...Little Baron, don’t look so betrayed. I wouldn’t have hurt you.” He crossed the bedroom in a few giant strides, standing behind Marcone, shielding him from my view with his massive body, leaning his shaggy head to have a low-voiced conference.

I sort of stared at them. I mean, recognizing myself as the kind of guy who could occasionally like it when giant, muscular rogue-types had their way with him had taken time and a lot of self-doubt and that period where I was going ‘alack is me, I am a monster without moral limits, I shall go screw her and him and him and her because that is what bad people do’.

Recasting Marcone into that role?

Marcone? The only time I’d ever seen him hint he had an interest in sex was when I’d walked in on him and a woman of his acquaintance sharing his desk chair-- and Helen was special to him, in his own messed up way. I mean. That guy didn’t eyeball other women; he definitely didn’t eyeball other _men_. That guy did _not_ splay out in a retired god’s bed looking like he’d just won the derby, or wake up and agree to casual sex with a stranger. He barked orders and suppressed his emotions and implied that I was immature while I tried to screw up his life and he tried to herd me into corners.

He just... didn’t.

And if he did, it would mean that sometimes he liked having someone around who was bigger than him. Someone who wasn’t a loyal bodyguard. If I’d thought about it-- maybe I’d thought about it-- I’d figured that the last thing John Marcone could stand in bed was a lover who was bigger than him. Someone who reminded him that his power wasn’t absolute.

They’d shifted so that I could see John in profile, relaxed into Vadderung’s arms, head pillowed against a pectoral. He’d gotten his slacks on and nothing else; his feet were pale and pink against the dark fur rug, his bare stomach a few shades darker than the man he was leaning on.

“All’s well?” Vadderung asked, louder than the rest of their conference but just barely on the edge of my hearing. John nodded.

“Another time.” He took a deep breath, the line of his jaw firming, mouth setting, and stepped away from the shelter of the Vaddering’s embrace, doing up the button on his pants. He walked around the bed, finding his socks, his shoes. I awkwardly handed him his shirt when the trail lead him to my side of the bed, and he shrugged it on, doing up the buttons with short, controlled jerks.

Vadderung passed him his tie and he wrapped it around one hand, like a fighter getting ready for the ring, stopped in the shadow by the door. “In your own time, Marcone,” Vadderung told him. “You may take of my hospitality until you are ready to return to your steel city: I won’t hurry you out.” His attention shifted to me, eyebrows arching. “And if you are finding the floor so to your taste--”

I flushed and scrambled to my feet. “No, no. Bed. Bed is good.” I sat on it and bounced, awkwardly. At least I could stop worrying about grinning too hard. My mouth had fallen into a flat line.

“Little one,” he sighed, sitting down on the other side and reaching to pull me forward, swinging me back into his lap, twisting us so his back was to Marcone. He tucked his chin over my head, drawing me protectively into the curl of his chest. “Didn’t think you’d take so poorly to sharing a bed with that one,” he murmured to me. “It was not meant to upset you; you are sweet in your pleasure, and you are as sweet shared. You give freely of yourself, and you are much bound up with the Baron. I had thought your allegiance to be on better terms than it is. It seems I may have something to apologize for.”

Yeah. I wasn’t going to push too hard for Vadderung to apologize. It was a major gesture that shouldn’t come of a failed three-way-- and, if I was reading him right, he’d thought he was doing John and me a favour. And sulking about ‘he’s a murderer and a criminal’ would be kind of tacky in front of the Gallows God. See, I learn.

“I just wasn’t expecting it to be him.”

“He’s much in your mind, isn’t he?” Vadderung rubbed a calming circle against my back. “I’ll see if I can’t distract you.” He curled around me a little tighter, chin sliding down to tuck over my shoulder, kissing sucking little smacks down my cheek. He rubbed his whiskers in a little harder than necessary, and I snorted and sniggered despite myself. They really tickle, okay?

I squirmed away-- well, awayish, twisting around in his lap until he spread his knees apart and I sank down between them, straining up and catching his mouth with my own. He slid his hands around my ribs-- could probably make them touch, if he wanted, and wasn’t that a disorienting thought, not that I ever forgot how damn _big_ he was-- and hoisted us around again, leaning back against the headboard, spreading his legs out on either side of me. He flicked his big tongue inside of my mouth, back out, and in again so I could suck on it. His dick poked me in the stomach-- kind of like a baseball bat pokes-- and I got the idea.

I hadn’t heard the door open; John hadn’t left.

I tried to turn, to see over my shoulder. I don’t know what I wanted: to catch him creeping in the corner? To make him know I knew? To find out if he was staring at us like I would be? My back prickled, and the Vadderung’s big strong hand caught my head before I could look, guided me down, his other hand undoing his pants. I realized, belatedly, that I still had my clothes on. And as soon as I remembered that my jeans were there, they became unbearable. I wriggled, wrenched at my fly, tossed them over the side to the floor, and dropped flat on the bed to lick a broad stripe across the top of Vadderung’s dick.

The taste filled my mouth and the tension eased from my back, my neck, my shoulders. This I knew how to do: this was comfortable, familiar. I wrapped my hands around the base of his dick and gave him a few good pumps, sucked noisy, teasing kisses up from the double handful of his testicles to his slit, and licked again, harder, tugged at the foreskin with my lips, getting reacquainted. I pulled away long enough to let Vadderung ease my t-shirt over my head, one of his big hands stroking over my hair, my shoulders, and I stretched my mouth wide, sinking down on him.

He rewarded me with a happy groan, ruffling my hair. “You are skilled with that mouth of yours, Knight,” he rumbled, pleased, the sound coming up around me like the earth shaking, and tipped his pelvis up, giving me that much more of an angle to work with.

I closed my eyes and just let myself get lost in sucking him. It had taken a while for me to figure out how to do that the first time: it’s not just the Vadderung’s chest and shoulders that are massive. Just working out when to breathe was complicated. But it’s worth it. I mean... maybe it’s just me, but the size thing. It was pretty great. The heat and power of his giant ahem ahem godhood slipping down my throat, the familiar stretch in my jaw, his smell and taste focusing my attention-- the world could have dropped away, the door could have opened wide, I could have been putting on a show for half of Monoc Securities and not realized, not cared.

Footsteps came up behind me-- I ignored them. I startled but didn’t bite down the bed dipped and a warm weight nestled against my back. John cupped around me, resting his chin on my shoulder to murmur in my ear.

“I don’t want to bring the boardroom into the bedroom. I refuse to run away from you. If I stay, can I trust you not to make this a problem for me?”

I nodded, very carefully, wondering what Vadderung was making of all of this.

“Then move over.”

John elbowed himself a spot between Vadderung’s splayed legs and-- after a pause to get his shirt and pants back off-- leaned in to join me, his cheek smooth against my stubble, and started to lick and nuzzle Vadderung’s balls.

So we had an interest in common. Vadderung had a big enough package that it was a two man job, anyway. I relaxed back into blowing him, trying to get his cock so far down my throat that I qualified as a sword-swallower.

“Easy, Harry,” Vadderung said, and tugged my hair softly, teasing me and pulling me up. “Later.”

“Mmf?” I came off of him with a slurping sound, and coughed. “Something wrong?”

“I’m just not in that much of a hurry,” he said, ruffling my hair. “You know you’re good with your mouth.”

John snorted gracelessly.

“Baron,” Vadderung sighed. “Behave yourself, would you?”

“I’d never argue that he doesn’t have a smart mouth,” John said piously.

“You’ve truly never been together then? Never had his mouth on you? I’m sorry for that, little man.” The hair-ruffling hand shifted over to pet John’s hair like a cat.

I preened a little. I didn’t want this to turn into some kind of pissing contest, which mortal could impress Vadderung more-- it would give him a swelled head and leave John and me on worse terms than we’d started. But a guy does like to hear he’s appreciated.

“I could show you,” I offered before I could think better of it.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” John said tightly, and tensed away from me as much as he could in the small space between Vadderung’s massive splayed legs.

Vadderung sighed. “Is that all you’ll be doing with your mouths for the next little while, boys? Arguing?”

I didn’t answer. I put a hand on John’s shoulder, and when he didn’t outright shake it off, I started to rub the tense muscle, digging tight circles with my thumb in his bulky trapezius, using the effort to focus my thoughts-- most of which were more concerned with getting my mouth back around Vadderung’s dick, and less about playing games with Marcone.

“I don’t hate you. And despite all your kindergarten cracks, I actually do know where to draw a few lines. If you want to stay... it’s weird for me, but I mean. Weird has become really relative lately.”

“I’ve never been in this situation with someone who sees me in the mortal world. It’s not comfortable,” John said stiffly, not shaking my hand away, not looking directly at me.

Yeah. More than anything... yeah. Well, that and the years of sparring and political manipulation and being in each other’s hair and maybe the _occasional_ implied death threats. Just on holidays.

“I’ve never seen you like this in the mortal world. I’m sure I can repress the memory, no problem. I’m good at that. I’d give you references, but I don’t remember them; I’ve got years of experience I don’t know about.”

John snorted again, but his shoulder was relaxing under my hand. I pushed on: “We can go back to our standoff once we’re in Chicago. Like you said, we don’t have to bring that here.” And I wanted to hang on to the sleepy-muscle-guy from the bed, even if the image of Marcone, Criminal Scumbag was clear and sharp.

...which made me wonder what duelling images of me he had in his head.

“Besides, you’ve been flirting with me for years,” I said innocently, slipping back into the easy place where I needled him.

“What.”

“That thing about ‘you know me in a way so profound and intimate that I cannot yet fathom its significance. Just as I know you’? Totally trying to get into my pants. In hindsight, it’s so clear.”

“...Dresden, please shut up and blow the nice retired god.” He bumped his shoulder against mine, my hand falling away, and buried his face back in Vadderung’s basket.

And people say I can’t be diplomatic. Vadderung had waited patiently while we bickered between his thighs; he made a low, content sound when I joined John, seeing if between the two of us we could get his balls into our mouths. It was a little like trying to swallow a grapefruit whole; I couldn’t say I minded. I lapped up the taste of him, the delicate, crinkled skin, the musk and overwhelming size of it all, happy to rub my whole face against them, pressing in as deep as I could.

I licked and nuzzled and sucked, my face pressed up tight against John’s, my lips brushing against his cheek, his forehead, his mouth. It wasn’t so bad, being up close and personal with him, surrounded by sex, that single-minded intensity I’ve seen him get about other things-- Chicago, a girl in a hospital bed in Wisconsin, protecting Chicago from monsters, Chicago-- made soft and dopey, his eyes bright and a bit dazed, little slits of self-satisfied pleasure. I watched him stretch his mouth wide, swallowing around one of Vadderung’s balls.

I’m a helpful guy; I like to lend a hand. Or a mouth, as the case may be. My lips bumped his as I tried to match him, sucking down the other side of the Vaddeung’s testicle, almost kissing him, awkward, my jaw stretched wide, moaning a little before I caught myself, my mouth so _full_.

Vadderung gave a rumbling chuckle, pressing his dick down and stroking it against our hair. “You don’t short me on the pretty, do you, my men? But you can’t stay down there all day.”

“Is there something you’d like?” John asked, pulling back and leaving me to slobber on Vadderung’s balls by myself, and it took me by surprise how throaty and warm his voice was. He smiled up, and if he was any other guy I’d have called his expression coy.

“I think so. What do you say, Marcone? Between the two of you, think you’re enough man for me?”

“You sound like you’re in a porno,” I objected, and he bobbed a silver brow at me. “I mean, gosh, I don’t even remember _ordering_ a pizza.”

“But my bathtub drain is so clogged,” John added, leaning on my shoulder so that he could crawl up into Vadderung’s lap. “Let me take a shower and show you what I mean.”

Vadderung kissed him appreciatively, and I watched with interest as John curled against him. I swear, the guy was going to start purring. I crawled up and took Vadderung’s other knee, not wanting to be forgotten, and nibbled on his chin and jaw, bristly-- and maybe a little of John’s chin and jaw, smooth, by accident.

Vadderung bounced his knees, once, twice, then turned us, dropping John and I across the bed. “I believe I know how I want the pair of you, if you’re done spatting because one of you touched the other.”

“Okay,” I said, wiggling against John.

“I place myself entirely in your hands,” he agreed, and then yelped as Vadderung took him at his word and dragged him across the bed, dropping him on his back with his legs flipped up, his head at the foot, his ass facing me. ...He had a great ass. I’d never heard him yelp before.

“You too,” Vadderung chuckled, and scooped his hands under my hips, arranging me the opposite way on the bed, my hips aligned straight with John’s. A wiggle, and our asses bumped, John’s knees coming down on my thighs. He looked down the length of his torso, then up the length of mine.

“When he says ‘man enough--’” John said as Vadderung dipped a finger into my mouth, doing whatever magic it is that turns my saliva into a slick lubricant. I mmm’d and sucked, a little harder than he’d been expecting, going by his chuckle and the pressure he applied with his other hand to the hinge of my jaw so he could pop free. Then our host leaned against the wall near the bed, legs spread, and gave us a grin as he started to work his big fingers into himself.

Oh Stars. I gave John a sideways grin once my eyes had focused again, and we both watched as Vadderung stretched himself, waving his furry ass.

“I’ve seen this porn,” John said thoughtfully, wiggling a little closer to me, tangling our legs a little more thoroughly. One of my feet tucked under the hollow of his back. It was warm, comfortable.

“I’ve done this porn,” I said with a grin. Our balls smacked gently, and I wriggled my hips, trying to get a little friction against his dick.

“...I had no idea you were so well-versed.”

Of all the people not to know that I’d turned Bicycle of Winter--

“Ready, my men?” Vadderung climbed back on the bed, straddling our intertwined legs.

We murmured our assent, and he gripped the headboard, lifting himself into a squat above us. His massive hand curled around my dick and John’s, pressing them together and giving a few toe-curling strokes to remind me just how hard I was, before he guided the the tip of my dick against his entrance. He slipped onto me easily-- and then an inch and a little wriggling later, I hissed as John’s dick pressed up inside, sliding along mine. My ears started to ring; my hands clenched frantically at the bed sheet. My chest constricted-- expanded, my heart threatening to explode right there.

“That’s pretty fine, my little men,” Vadderung said, baring his teeth and lowering himself down over us. “Easy does it. I’d like this ride to last a while.”

Little. My indignation tried to stir up from somewhere deep in my belly, but the tingly pixie dust of pure, stupid, desperate lust smacked it down. Little. Yeah, it was fair, really, considering who was doing the name-calling. Little. ...I could work with that. Something went sizzle-crackle-spark in my gut, shot straight up like a firework-- oh Stars, could I work with that. My toes curled; I made a yippy sort of grunt and tried to wedge myself up higher, tighter into him, trying to get him to take us all, certain he could, he was so damned _big_.

John let out a throaty groan, gripping at Vadderung’s hip. I found his other hand with mine, squeezing, his fingers as clawed, as sweaty as mine. He gripped back, just as hard-- Vadderung was tight and clinging around us, wet and slick and hot. I made a little hip motion, jerky, stuttery; I didn’t really have the leverage to go far, with John’s legs tangled around mine.

He didn’t quite bottom out onto us, but he got low enough that his pendulous balls tapped my thigh hello before he rose with a happy sound and the flex of his massive thighs. ‘Thews’, really. Whatever thews were, he had them. The headboard creaked as he used it for leverage, rising slow and coming down with a deep, rumbly sigh. Horny, _pleased_ thunder.

John made a frustrated sound and started to pull at my legs, untangling us a little-- once he had footing, he lifted up, his abs straining as he forced himself and me, my legs on top of his now, all the way up into Vadderung.

Stars went off behind my eyes: either John or I made an embarrassing cooing noise-- definitely John. Had to be. Don’t believe anyone who tells you differently. He dipped us back out and I got my legs under me enough to help on the next thrust up.

“You’re sweet together,” Vadderung said, voice low and dirty. “See how well you can fill me? Come on, boys, give me a solid fucking, leave me loose enough that the wind whistles in. Put your backs into it.”

John pulled his hand out of mine, wrapping it around the two of us-- his dick flush to mine, wet and hot and slick-smooth, the extra girth I never knew I’d been missing, an extension of myself. Like we were sharing one big conjoined penis, I thought giddily, like we’d grown together, one and the same, and by the wild look in his eyes as he stroked us together-- urging us hotter, harder, in desperate counter-point to the Vadderung’s rhythm-- his mind was rolling around in the same gutter.

“Harder, little ones,” Vadderung said, his deep, growly pitch hitting me somewhere behind my hips, making them jerk, throwing off John’s stroke for a beat. “Split me open like I tell you to.”

I whined embarrassingly, hips trying to snap up against John’s grip and the steady, subtle weight of the Vadderung pushing down, my skin on fire where he let his balls rest for a few seconds, his ass hovering teasingly over our thighs. The headboard creaked worryingly.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” John snarled, shaking as he forced his abs to drive us higher, harder, faster. “You just. Going to lie there, Harry? Come-- on. Like you fucking mean it.”

Vadderung was hot, tight, growing slicker, flexing around us-- I was losing track of where my body ended and where his and John’s began, pushing harder and harder into him, a bit of me thinking we were going to rip right through, the rest convinced we were going to slip inside and be devoured. I clawed at the mattress and hooked one of my legs around one of John’s, dug deep into the well of strength Winter gave me and rocked us up so hard, so fast Vadderung capsized, tipping sideways and catching himself with one knee and one arm and a booming laugh.

“That’s more like it,” Vaggerung righted himself with another laugh, delighted, slamming back down on us, balls smacking my thighs, his ass stopping a bare inch above our skin. Something dripped on my stomach-- sweat, precome, his giant cock red and slick. I bared my teeth, meeting his grin when he looked down, down, down at us, and drove us up, making him sway and shudder. “Well done, my little man. Show me again.”

“...Winter fucking _steroids_ ,” John gasped, and I burst out laughing, letting go of the mattress to reach one hand up to grip at the Vadderung’s tree trunk-- I mean thigh-- and wrapping the other around John’s hand, squeezing us together hard enough to make him grunt and jerk towards me.

There was that cooing sound again-- John really needed to get that looked at-- and we found our rhythm, a few perfect thrusts that left our pelvises smacking Vadderung’s meaty thighs and firm ass.

John made a garbled, warning sound, a moan that got strangled on the way out, and we lost our rhythm for the last time as his hips locked at their highest point. He was shaking, frozen in Vadderung, and I felt his cock spasm against mine. I drew out and thrust in, the head of my cock running hard up the length of his, once, twice, and again-- and he made this painful keening sound and came so hard we almost knocked Vadderung over again.

John slumped out of Vadderung, puddling bonelessly on the bed; I followed him, a few last hot, sloppy thrusts later, a lot less boneless, groaning. I could crack rocks, I was so hard, and if I didn’t get something--

The oak headboard creaked and the bed dipped as Vadderung lifted his leg over and knelt beside me, giving a pleased little wince and roguish grin. “My turn.”

“Uh--” I said intelligently, but he’d already scooped a hand between our legs to untangle and separate us, flipping me over to lie face down across John’s legs and belly. John's hand moved uncertainly over my back-- his eyes were unfocused, he didn’t appear to have his brain back yet-- and I started to say something reassuring or snarky or both.

Then Vadderung plunged his face between my ass cheeks and drove his massive tongue right into me, and it came out “Aaaah-oooooh- _yessssss_ gngh.” His whiskers rasped against my inner thighs, and boy was it going to be hard to explain how I got rug burn right there but they felt amazing and I couldn’t decide whether to squirm into them or away and then he pulled his tongue out and flicked it back in and oh STARS oh yes.

I ground my hips down, rubbing my cock against John’s muscly thigh and gaining whole new levels of appreciation for his well-maintained physique, and his fingers tangled in my hair, alternating caressing and tugging. The little hint of pain was enough to keep me from coming then and there, but the sparks it sent down my spine weren’t unpleasant at all. Slowly, the stretch of Vadderung’s tongue started to fade, started to be Not Enough, and I pushed backwards pleadingly.

Vadderung responded by pulling back with a chuckle-- I made an indignant sound-- and then replacing his tongue with the head of his cock.

Happy sound. Very happy sound.

He lifted me to my hands and knees-- now straddling and staring down at Marcone, my dick missing his thigh already-- and gave his first tentative thrust. That pesky cooing noise started again; I muffled it in John’s mouth, my lips trembling against his.

John looked so much like the warm, pliant, well-fucked guy I’d found sleeping in Vadderung’s big bed and so much not at all like the Baron or the businessman or the mobster asshole who did terrible things and still made me like him. Kissed like him, too-- the sleepy, muscly guy-- his tongue strolling into my mouth as Vadderung’s cock slid giant inch by giant inch into me.

John’s hand, broad fingered and strong, wrapped around my cock, pulled-- I broke away from his mouth long enough to gasp and swear, and he yanked me back, one hand rough behind my neck and his other echoing the movement on my dick.

“Easy, Baron,” Vadderung laughed, panting and grunting behind me, big hands wrapped around my hips, practically sliding me up and down on his cock. “You don’t want to injure our little friend.”

“Little!” I squawked against John’s mouth, indignant, but I think the way my dick twitched and I clenched down on Vadderung gave me away. He laughed, moved a hand to stroke my belly, and gave another thrust to remind me just what the basis for comparison was; I forgot what I was pretending to be upset about and got caught up in how damn _big_ he was and how great that was all over again. His big hands slid up, gripping my ribs, and pulled me away from John-- nearly upright, my back almost flush with his as he lifted me up and down, my legs barely involved in the process. ...if wall squats were always like this, though, my thighs would be as massive as his. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to stop.

John leaned forward to find me again-- kissing my navel this time, as wet and thoroughly as he’d kissed my mouth, my dick smacking him enthusiastically in the chin, and drifted down towards my groin, found my cock with his hand, my balls with his mouth.

He licked down them and back, lapping at the base of Vadderung’s cock where it met me-- I’ll own the coo this time, the choked off wail and the way I clawed at the air before I found Vadderung’s arms-- spent some time with Vadderung’s swinging balls, and then worked his way back to me. He could get his mouth ALL the way around me; I don’t know which of us made a more appreciative sound. Vadderung’s thrusts bounced me out of his mouth, and he followed, licking eagerly.

I looked down at him-- his eyes, bright and sleepy and warm, caught mine. Something about the way he was straining up, trying to follow me with his tongue, frustrated and playful all at once-- as if licking me was so good he couldn’t do without it-- it sent fire up my spine, and I started up in a soft, continuous whine, wriggled on Vadderung’s cock, my hands digging into his massive forearms, fighting for leverage, fighting to sink further down onto him.

“Paint his face, my man,” he rumbled into my ear.

Oh. Did he mean come all over John’s handsome, upturned face? Was that it? Streak white trails of come all over his nose and red, wet mouth as he licked at me? ...That only hit my libido like a depth charge, was all. I whined and snarled and jerked on Vadderung, bouncing against the massive dick that felt like it was going to break me in half, like it was all that was holding me upright, and did as my host requested.

John’s tongue flickered out to catch the drops where they hit his lips, using his grip on me to tilt my dick towards him and take it full on the face, some of it streaking with the gray in his hair. He grinned, as if it was fun, as if it was the best thing, and Vadderung’s wild, rolling laugh vibrated from my pelvis to my skull, this thunderstorm inside me, too close to touch. It was too much, felt like I’d come my brains out if I didn’t stop soon. Stars, John’s face, his mouth in a laughing smile, eyes a hot jungle green as he coaxed another pulse out of me and onto his chin, his lips.

I had to shut my eyes-- Vadderung was still going, pounding, stretching me open, but close. I could recognize it. I rode his last hard thrusts-- my body feeling so loose, so empty-- and felt him lose it inside me, a few fast, sharp thrusts, slamming and slapping, and then a warm feeling deep in me and his rich, satisfied groan ringing in my ears.

Vadderung’s hips gave a last, soft slap against mine, and he sighed low and content in himself. I slumped forward-- he guided my hips down, slowly pulling out of me, my hole sucking around him and I jerked a little, sore and stretched in just the right way-- and was caught in John’s strong arms. I folded across him like a wet, sticky, oven-warm blanket, and he laid us down, hand curling lightly in my hair as I shuddered out the aftershocks. Vadderung left us there, with a friendly kiss to each of our foreheads and a parting pat to my rear, and went off to do something official.

 

For a long time we lay there tangled together, content and wrung out and not moving. But John disengaged himself, eventually-- went to find something to clean us with, wipe himself down.

When he got back to the bed, sweat toweled off and face and hair defrosted, I could see that he’d put his business face back on. Sleepy muscle guy was gone. Baronial asshole uncertain of what he’d just gotten himself into offered me a flannel. ...He looked a little like Mister, stiffly ignoring the wreckage of some jar or bottle that had fallen off my bookshelf or kitchen table entirely of its own volition.

“Thanks,” I said, and took the flannel, scrubbing at my thighs. He lay back down-- almost out of arm’s reach, on the other side of the continent-sized bed. I used my context clues, and decided he didn’t want to be touched.

Well, fine. Be that way. I didn’t want to cuddle him either. I rolled away, digging myself under a mound of big, warm blanket-- definitely more than my fair share of the covers. So there.

This silence was a lot less companionable, and he broke it first.

“You aren’t even remotely afraid that in a moment of decision you’ll remember this and choose wrong?” Even when his voice was almost slurring with sleep, John sounded clinical. Stars, did he ever turn off? Or maybe he was putting in some extra effort to impress me. I’d always known he cared.

I rolled over and looked at him seriously. It was going to be hard to banish the image of him between my legs, of his red mouth and playful smile and all those muscles, but the disconnect between sleepy-muscle guy and Baron-asshole was deep and wide. I’d manage. “Now that you bring it up, it might bother me now and then. But I don’t think so. Why. Are you?”

“I’m not a stone caricature, Dresden, no matter what you might have told yourself.” He lost a bit of his asshole-face, slipping into hurt petulance for just a moment before finding it again. “It’s not as if I’m unaffected by this.”

“...John. A lot of stuff has happened between us. At this point, sex doesn’t even crack the top forty of our significant interactions.”

“Falling asleep beside you is more than sex.” There was something in his eyes that didn’t match his tone, his careful non-expression. My forehead creased and my tired, fucked-stupid brain cramped when I tried to figure it out. Later.

“Still doesn’t hit the top ten. I have absolute faith in your ability to be a total bastard when the time comes. Does that help?”

“No,” he said, possibly a little sulkily, and rolled over with his face in the pillow.

“Well, we’ve learned a valuable lesson today,” I said, pedantically.

There was a waiting silence from his side of the bed.

“When we put our heads together, we can do anything.”

There was a pause. Then a gagging sound. John rolled over and up, and started to pummel me viciously with his pillow, big deliberate whacks as I shielded myself with my arms and giggled and kicked. In a manly fashion.

“...Baron,” came the amused warning from Vadderung, and John stopped, not-quite-but-really-almost pouting. He dropped his violence-fluffed pillow back on the bed and lay back down with his back to me.

I burrowed back under my blanket nest and settled down to sleep. I tossed, turned, wound up back to back with John, sharing his body heat. He shifted, but I’m sure it wasn’t wriggling back against me to get our spines flush together, our legs almost tangled again or anything. No no no, not ever.

It definitely wasn’t a snuggle or anything. But it was comfortable and warm. I could hear Vadderung at his desk, pen scratching as he replied to Mab’s letter. I could hear John breathing, faint and mostly asleep again. It sounded like a good idea-- my limbs were all noodly and I felt pleasantly drained, my mouth stretched back out in a sleepy reflection of the grin I’d been wearing before this whole thing had even started. So.

Fall asleep beside my mortal enemy? ...Hook my ankle around my mortal enemy’s, stretch my arm back to lie loosely on my mortal enemy’s thigh? ...Oh, hey, lift my arm so that my mortal enemy could sleepily yet nefariously wedge his hand under mine?

Somehow I’d deal.


End file.
